Matchmaker 1
by Utsukushii Ryu
Summary: Shounen ai;yaoi. YamiYugi, BakuraRyou, HondaOtogi, MarikMalik, SetoJounouchi, ValonOC, Tea Bashing. Set in Ancient Egypt. First of the Matchmaker Series.
1. First Encounters

**Matchmaker** 1  
By Utsukushii Ryu

**Disclaimer**: I don't own any of the Yu-Gi-Oh! characters, except for Rayah, Mayah, and Krizt. Maybe Varey, I'm not so sure. So everyone knows, 'Varey' is actually Valon from the "Waking the Dragons" series of the Yu-Gi-Oh! anime, and he wasn't in ancient Egypt in his past life, nor did he _have_ a past life, but I'm making him one anyway…so would 'Varey' be mine…or not?? Oh well. Whatever, you get the point…

Hey everyone. Sorry you haven't heard from me. I haven't been able to get my hands on a computer for a while. Thanks to _someone_—clicks tongue in slight annoyance—my computer's been contaminated by a virus, and the computers at school are strictly for school use only.

During this period, I've been getting new ideas for unwritten chapters for my fics, and new fics, this one in particular. This fic will be part of a long series, ranging from different anime and books, but with one same character—mine. I'm not sure how many there will be, but there will be plenty, believe me. This series will be called the **_Matchmaker Series_**, so if there is a fic titled "Matchmaker (whatever number)" and the author is me, then it's part of the series, and you're bound to see my made-up character causing mayhem and matchmaking everyone (hence the title). The number next to "Matchmaker" tells you which part of the series it's in. It would be less confusing for you if you read it in order from 1 to...eh, whatever number I get to.

I hope you enjoy the first of the series.

Chapter One: First Encounters

Rayah looked up at the scorching sun, his hand shading his silver-blue orbs. Ra's light was shining brightly down upon the barren land, increasing the already unbearable temperature. He looked back down and began to study his surroundings with careful eyes. He could see the heat rising from the horizon, and his mouth lowered in a slight frown.

He closed his eyes for a moment, and sighed, running a tanned hand through his dark locks. He reopened them again, this time taking a closer look. Something shimmering in the distance immediately caught his attention, and he instantly smiled.

_Finally_! he thought, remounting his camel and steering the animal in that direction. _I have reached the Nile! Thank the gods!_ He urged his camel faster, and, before long, reached the green shores of the Nile River.

Rayah gracefully dismounted his camel, untied the water bag from his sack, uncorked it, and knelt down at the bank, filling it up. After he corked the bag, he laid it next to him, and cupped his hands into the cool stream. His smile widened slightly, and he brought up the small amount of water to his face, washing out almost all of the sand that had gathered there, revealing how handsome he really was.

With the irritating sand gone, he finally took a drink, sighing as the cool water not only slid down his hot throat but his neck as well, entering his cotton clothing. He couldn't suppress a small gasp of surprise and a slight chuckle at the sensation.

Thoroughly satisfied, he picked up his water bag and headed back to his camel, petting her long neck affectionately as she, too, took a long drink. He retied the now full water bottle to his sack, and shook his head slightly to get rid of the excess water from his tresses. He ran a hand through his hair, and looked back at the river.

The scene was peaceful, and the soft breeze was calming, a lot better then the desert he had just been in. Rayah found himself relaxing against his better judgment, but he smiled serenely anyway. He turned back to his camel, and continued to pet her neck.

"Are you done, Mayah?" he asked. Mayah gulped down some more water, before picking her snout out from the cool stream. Just when he thought they were ready to go, Mayah turned to the grass beside the shore, and began to eat. Rayah sighed, but smiled affectionately at her.

He turned back to the river just in time to see something peculiar roll by them. His silver-blue orbs widened slightly when he recognized the 'thing' as a person. He immediately ran into the stream, and picked up the other, before dragging him back to the shore. The person was incredibly light, and very skinny. _He must be a slave_, Rayah thought to himself as he gently laid the other boy down. Mayah looked up only long enough to make sure her owner was still there, before going back to her dining.

Rayah brushed the wet hair out of the other boy's face, and almost couldn't suppress a gasp. The other boy was very attractive, and somewhat cute-looking. On closer inspection, Rayah could guess he was around his own age, albeit a few years younger, eleven or twelve maybe. The boy had dark auburn hair, a peculiar shade for an Egyptian. His skin wasn't tanned, either. It was the palest shade of skin Rayah had ever seen in his thirteen years of living. His clothes were peculiar too.

Rayah's eyebrows furrowed slightly in confusion as he continued to stare at the other boy's face. It was a short moment before he snapped himself out of his stupor. His eyes left the handsome face to trail down the body to check for injuries. Not a scratch. Rayah sat back on his heels, crossing his arms.

_He's not a slave_, he thought, his eyes returning to the other's face. _His breathing's normal…and there isn't a single scratch on him…_ Rayah closed his eyes once he realized he was still admiring the other boy. _Maybe he's just skinny because he hasn't eaten in a while…_

Rayah reopened his eyes; this time to look down the stream in the direction the boy had come. That direction led to the sea. _His parents could be looking for him…_ Rayah looked back down at the dozing boy. _On the other hand…his parents could've died or been killed…_

He sighed as he leaned back on his palms. _Either way, I can't just leave him here if he wakes up soon…_ He looked at his content camel, oblivious to her master's troubles. A small moment passed, and a weak smile developed on his tanned face. _Master isn't going to like this…_

Decision made, Rayah stood up and took a towel from his sack. He walked back to the boy, and proceeded to dry him off. He paused when the boy groaned lightly in his sleep, and waited. The boy didn't wake up, and he continued to dry him. Once done, he was left with a sopping wet towel and a semi-dry kid.

Rayah turned to the riverbed, and wringed out the excess water. He shook the towel slightly in the breeze to dry it further, and placed it back in his sack. He took out some more dry towels, folded them, and placed them under the foreign boy's head. He straightened to find Mayah staring curiously at him. He gave her a half-hearted glare.

"What?" he asked in a slightly irritated tone. "I can be nice…when I want to be…" Mayah continued to stare at him, and he could almost hear her say, "Well, this is a first. I certainly hope it's not your last."

He turned his head so he wouldn't have to look at her, and she also looked away. Rayah continued to his sack, muttering incoherently under his breath about 'stupid, annoying camels'. He took out a slightly smaller sack, and proceeded to do what he had come there for: to collect healing plants and herbs found only at the Nile for his master. He decided to leave Mayah behind; some time away from the annoying creature would do him some good.

When he finished, the sun was touching the horizon, turning from a bright, almost neon, yellow to a beautiful orange-red. He walked back with a bulging sack hanging on his shoulder, and a few fruit in his arms. Mayah was no longer eating, but she was lying contentedly on the soft grass, awaiting his return. During his time away, he had forgotten his annoyance, but then it came back with a vengeance.

He suppressed it as best he could, and continued to retie the small sack of plants and herbs to the bigger sack. Mayah whined slightly at the added weight, but that was all. Rayah couldn't suppress a smirk, and a "Well, you deserved that!", before he sat down against her, and began to eat some of the fruit he had gathered.

He was on his third one when the other boy began to groan. He stopped, and turned his attention to the waking boy. The boy opened his eyes to reveal twin orbs of chocolate brown, and sat up. He stared at his surroundings in confusion, his bottom lip sticking out slightly. The boy hadn't realized he was no longer alone, and Rayah smiled slightly, lowering the arm holding the pear he was about to eat.

"You had me worried there," he said, startling the other boy. The younger jerked his head at Rayah's direction, his eyes widening as he stared at the handsome Egyptian.

"Who…who are you…?" asked the foreign boy, his voice slightly hoarse. Rayah tilted his head slightly as he also noted a small accent. His Egyptian was good, but not quite good enough.

"I'm Rayah," he answered. "And you are?" The boy gulped slightly, as if deciding whether or not to tell the other boy.

"I…"

"You don't have to tell me if you don't want to." The boy gulped again, but sat up straighter.

"M…my name is…Varey…" Rayah was silent for a moment, his silver-blue orbs slightly wide as he stared at the newcomer.

"…Varey…" he said softly, as if toying with it to become accustomed with it. He looked up, and noticed a slight shiver wrack Varey's lithe body. "Cold?" Varey's shoulders tensed slightly, but he nodded. Rayah looked up, pulled loose a large blanket, and tossed it over. The boy caught it easily. "It may be scorching hot in the morning, but it gets abnormally cold at night."

"T…thank you…" He wrapped the blanket around his small frame, and pulled it close . Rayah studied his slightly slouched position, before also tossing him a couple fruit, which he also caught easily, though with surprise. Chocolate orbs looked up in slight confusion, but Rayah avoided eye contact.

"What? Did you expect me to let you starve?" Varey shook his head, and began to eat. Rayah watched him for a moment, before finishing his own fruit.

When Varey finished his share, he suddenly felt very tired, and fell onto the soft grass, scaring Rayah half to death in the process. He hurried to the foreign boy's side, his eyes wide with concern.

"Varey?" he asked, shaking his shoulder. "Varey! Are you okay?!" A small groan, and a muttered, "M…tired…" was his answer. Rayah blinked, and mentally cursed his reaction. He could tell Mayah was staring at his back in amusement. He headed back to his seat, and ungracefully plopped down. "Damn kid," he muttered, ignoring the fact that said 'kid' was only a year or two younger then he was.

When Mayah finally fell asleep, he finally relaxed against her shaggy body and let his thoughts loose.

_What is with that kid…? He's making me act totally different then I used to! And where did he learn Egyptian, and from whom? Speaking of which, where the hell did he come from, anyway? I can tell he's not Egyptian, but his name surely is._

_And here's another thought: does he have a girlfriend?_

Rayah's eyes widened at that thought. _What the…? Where did that come from…?!_

_Right here. And you've got to admit, he's really cute._ Rayah almost choked as that thought crossed his mind. _Admit it! You think he's cute!_

_I do not!_ he replied indignantly.

_Yes you do._

_And how would you know?_ He winced; he knew he was going crazy if he was questioning and answering his own subconscious, a very confident one might he add.

_I'm you, lover boy. Well, part of you, anyway… _There was a small pause. _Wait, strike what I said earlier; you don't think he's cute, after all. My bad!_ Rayah almost sighed in relief, but then his subconscious added, _You think he's hot!! Heheh!_

Rayah growled lowly in his throat, though his cheeks were slightly red. He wasn't sure with what, but strike whatever he had thought earlier about his subconscious; he had a very self-assured, persistent, and annoying subconscious, which also didn't sound a thing like him. At all. He glanced over at Varey's sleeping form, and his blush darkened slightly. He looked away angrily.

_See? I told you so!! Heheh!_

Rayah growled lowly once again, with more malice this time. His subconscious was enjoying teasing him way too much for his liking and comfort. A thought struck him, and he smirked slightly, before settling into a comfortable position and closing his eyes, ignoring his subconscious's indignant protests and demands for attention.

Hey, hope you liked the first chapter. I know it seems to have nothing to do with Yu-Gi-Oh!, but it will--soon. You'll see. Just wait.

Well, see you next chapter (when I can actually type it).


	2. Isis' Prediction

Chapter Two: Isis' Prediction

Atemu raised his head in the direction of the disturbance. Isis had gasped quite loudly, indicating she had had a vision. Atemu sat up on his throne, and turned his attention on her, as did the rest of the High Priests.

"What is wrong, Isis?" asked Mahaado, holder of the Millennium Ring. "What did you see?" Isis turned fearful eyes onto her comrades.

"A plague is headed for our city," she said softly, causing Atemu to lean forward in his seat so he could hear her. "Your Greatness, your people shall suffer by the hundreds. So much that they wish for death, and yet they cannot even have _that_..." Atemu frowned.

"Is there no way to stop this?" he asked, aprehension in his voice. Isis hesitated.

"Isis!" called Akunadin, holder of the Millennium Eye, using a harsher tone then he intended. "If there is a way, you must tell us!" She only lowered her eyes.

"Please, Isis," pleaded Shadah, holder of the Ankh. "The lives of our people are at stake." Seth, who held the Millennium Rod, turned away so that no one could see the aprehension and fear on his face. Karim, who wielded the Millennium Scales, frowned at the Priestess.

"Out with it," he snapped. "If there is a way to stop this from happening, we must do all that we can." Isis sighed.

"There is a Healer who could stop it," she said softly. "But...I do not think he will agree to help..." Atemu frowned deeply.

"And why not?" asked Akunadin.

"He is a _Healer_!" agreed Karim. "It is his _job_ to help others in times of sickness!"

"...Isis...?" asked Mahaado, noticing the tension in the Priestess' shoulders. She turned her gaze onto the Pharaoh.

"He is not a supporter of you, my Pharaoh," she said finally. "He will not agree to helping you...after what your father, the former Pharaoh, did to his people..." Seth frowned deeply, as did Atemu.

"How _dare_ he think ill of the late Pharaoh!" he said irritably. "What could he have done that was so horrible!" At that, Isis' complexion paled slightly.

"I...cannot speak of it..."

"You mean," asked Mahaado, fear in his voice, "the Pharaoh _did_ do something horrible...?"

"Mahaado! Certainly not you, also!" snapped Akunadin. "You cannot doubt the decision of our Pharaoh. What he says or does is law!"

"Send for this Healer," Atemu said, stopping the ensuing argument immediately. "He may not be willing to help me, but surely he would help my people. Where does he reside now?"

"In the city of Mut, within the Dakhla Oasis," replied Isis.

"You cannot be sacrificing _yourself_," objected Seth. "You have yet to have an heir who will rule in your place!"

"You have not even been ruling for two summers yet," added Karim, a frown etched on his face. "You have yet to live your life. You cannot throw it away so soon!"

"This is for my people," Atemu replied cooly. "I cannot sit idly by, worrying about _my_ life, when my people's are at stake! I am not that kind of ruler." The Priests looked at each other, and sighed in resignation.

"Very well." Atemu turned to Mahaado.

"Send a messenger to Mut, and have him bring the Healer back here." Mahaado bowed, though reluctantly, and left the Throne Room.

"Who is this Healer?" asked Seth, slight disdain in his voice. "He cannot be so great that he can stop a plague." Isis frowned.

"I could not see his face clearly in my vision," she replied softly.

"Then look again." Isis raised her hands to her Millennium Necklace, and closed her eyes. Silence rang within the Throne Room as they waited with baited breath.

"...He is under aprenticship with a more experienced Healer,and he does not yet know his own potential," she said slowly, her eyebrows furrowing slightly. "He is under the favor of Ra...as well as Bastet, Horus, Isis, Maat, Anqet, Imhotep, Khensu, and Khepera...!" Gasps sprang from the other Priests, turning to each other in amazement.

"So many gods adore him," said Karim. "He must be great...!"

"His name...is Rayah," continued Isis. She gasped in surprise, and opened her eyes.

"What is it, Isis?" asked Akunadin in alarm.

"H-he is only fifteen summers old!"

"That is impossible!" countered Seth, a deep frown on his face. "He is barely older then the Pharaoh himself! Check again!"

"Seth!" Atemu called, frowning at his cousin. "Has Isis _ever_ been wrong in her predictions?"

"No, but--"

"No buts. He is to help us, whether I am included or not." Atemu sat back in his seat thoughtfully. "To be so young, and yet so favored and talented..." he smiled, "I cannot wait to meet him." Seth growled lowly in his throat, but said no more.

Hope you enjoyed the second chapter. I know, there hasn't been any shounen ai so far, but there will be soon.


	3. The Pharaoh's Summon

Hey. I have had writer's block for an agonizingly long time, and now I had inspiration for the third chapter of Matchmaker 1. I worked really hard to make this chapter work, so I don't want to find any flames in my in-box.

Enjoy to your heart's content...

Chapter Three: The Pharaoh's Summon

"Hurry up, Varey," laughed Rayah as he headed into his master's tent. "And be careful; Master shall become angry if you drop his medicinal herbs once again!"

"I am coming!" grunted Varey, trying desperately to keep the baskets balanced.

Only five suns had passed since Rayah had rescued the foreign boy back at the Nile. Krizt, his master, had agreed to keep Varey under his roof as long as the boy promised to do his fair share of work. It was soon apparent that the light-skinned boy was unaccustomed to any form of labor. He learned fast enough, but he was surprisingly very clumsy.

Their job was to separate the herbs, crush them, and put them in their respective baskets. Once they finished, they were to carry the baskets into the tent to be put into bottles. Currently, Rayah was easily carrying five baskets: two in each hand, and one balanced on his head. Varey, on the other hand, was having trouble with two.

He took a step, and almost lost his balance, but caught himself. He sighed in relief, but Rayah, finding this highly amusing, chuckled at his new friend's expense. He recieved an annoyed, halfhearted glare, which only caused the dark-haired teen to laugh even harder. Varey momentarily forgot his annoyance when he saw the older teen's silver-blue eyes sparkle happily and he could feel himself drown in the other's gaze.

The moment was lost when Rayah looked away, into the horizon. A frown found its way onto the tanned face, and Varey turned towards the horizon also. A cloud of sand and dust was rising into the sky; something was moving rapidly towards them.

"Come," Rayah said, all joking aside as he held the drapery at the tent's entrance open; he had caught sight of an emblem he had thought he would never have to see again, his eyesight being as good as it was, and he felt rage boil within his veins. "Master needs his herbs sorted..." Varey, trusting the other's instinct, hurriedly made his way into the tent as he did his best to keep the baskets balanced.

Once he was inside, Rayah followed, letting the drapery fall violently back into place behind him.

If Krizt noticed his irritation, he showed no sign of it. Instead, the master Healer trained his attention even more intently on a particularly nasty wound on his patient's back.

Krizt was a particularly handsome man, unlike most Healers. He was very well built, and his skin was just the right shade--not too dark as to be ugly, and not too light as to be strange. He had kind, focused brown eyes, and deep-black hair. Sometimes, when the sun hit the dark locks, one could see silver accenting his hair, making him even more attractive. Many of the girls in the village lined up, faking illnesses just to have him treat them.

Varey happily set the baskets down on a table, and wiped sweat from his forehead; he was still unused to the desert's searing heat. Rayah couldn't help a small smile of amusement as he set his own burdens down. Varey flushed lightly when he saw it.

Krizt glanced up, feeling that his apprentice had something to say to him.

"...Master..."

"Yes, Rayah?" asked the Healer, turning back to his patient.

"People are approaching..." Krizt glanced up once again at the aprehension in his student's tone.

"Who?"

"..._Them_..." replied Rayah, unfeeling yet his tone held a kind of steely hatred, as he set to weighing the crushed herbs, ignoring the confused glance Varey sent him as the latter put the amount of herbs he received into bottles and marking them properly. "..._His_ servants..."

At this, the peaceful air about the Healer tensed, so much that even his patient, who was just an average man, noticed the change.

Pretty soon, the occupants of the tent could hear soft rumbling (horses), and shouted commands. The rumbling stopped, and loud thumps replaced them, accompanied by loud whinnying and neighing. Not a second later, about seven armed men entered the tent. Their heads were all shaved, and their eyes were darkly outlined with coal. Upon their sheaths, was an emblem that made Rayah, who had calmed down only slightly, to fume with rage.

Krizt straightened, and regarded the men coolly, his face betraying nothing that was going on in his mind, though anger lurked beneath the apathy within his eyes. The Healer's unconcern seemed to annoy the men greatly, for they made a big show of showing off their swords and spears.

"How can I be of service to you?" asked the dark-haired man, setting down the bandages he was using to wrap his patient's wound.

"We are guards from the Mighty Pharaoh's army," said one man, who seemed to be the leader. Rayah tensed, and Varey glanced worriedly at him. "We have come upon the Pharaoh's behalf to summon the great Healer, Rayah, for a conference."

It took all that Rayah had not to whip around, his silver-blue eyes wide with surprise and unsupressed anger. Krizt, on the other hand, couldn't stop his eyes from widening, as he glanced worriedly over at his apprentice. None of the guards noticed, however.

"Where is he?" one asked gruffly, watching with disdain as Rayah and Varey worked on the herbs. "The Great Pharaoh wishes for his prescence immediately." Rayah's grip on the weighing scales tightened so that his knuckles turned white, his eyes narrowed darkly. _How dare he ask for me...after what his father did...he, in turn, will surely follow..._

The guards were quickly becoming impatient, and one unsheathed his blade, placing it dangerously close to the Krizt's neck.

"Where. Is. He?" he ground out, putting pressure onto the Healer's neck so that a thin line of red appeared. Still, Krizt remained silent, watching the guards with cool impassiveness. On the other hand, the patient watched the exchange fearfully, and Rayah glanced over his shoulder, and glared at the offending guard in outrage. Said guard did not notice, but another did. He smiled cruely, and pulled Rayah away from the table by his hair, forcing a pained cry from the teen.

"You there! So you think you are great, do you?" the guard asked gruffly, tightening his grip and recieving a pained hiss. Varey watched fearfully, too scared to do a thing. "High enough to stare at a Royal Guard with contempt and go unpunished! Who do you think you are!" Rayah held his tongue in check as he glared vehemently at his captor. The guard growled angrily, and punched Rayah in his gut.

Varey and Krizt cried out in protest, and the guards smiled.

"Are you ready to talk?" asked the guard with his sword at Krizt's throat. The Healer glared in response, ignoring the pain in his throat as the sword was pushed further. "Where is Rayah?" Again, they recieved no response, and again, Rayah recieved a blow in his stomach. Crimson blood dripped onto his chin.

The teen coughed violently, and Varey rushed to his side, only to be stopped by a sword aimed at his heart. Seeing this, Rayah darkened his glare as he gripped his stomach painfully. _Damn him_, he thought. _If he truly represents the gods...then the gods themselves must be cruel in themselves indeed..._ He grunted in pain, but smiled reassuringly at his friend.

The guard got ready to kick the dark-haired teen once again, only to be stopped by Krizt.

"Halt," the Healer called softly, forcefully. All the guards' attention was on him.

"Finally ready to talk, eh?" asked a guard, a smug smile on his face. Krizt chose to ignore the question.

"What does the Pharaoh want with Rayah...?" The guards looked at each other; apparently, they weren't told the reason why.

"Where IS HE!" growled a guard in frustration, swinging his spear dangerously. The patient curled up into a ball, not wanting to be hit. From the ground, Rayah chuckled darkly, drawing the guards' attention onto himself. The guard that attacked him frowned deeply.

"What is so funny, runt?" he grunted, very tempted to kick him once again.

"So you want to know where Rayah is?" asked the youth, wincing slightly in pain, though he kept on chuckling.

"Speak! Where is he?" barked the guard with the spear, pounding his spear's butt against the sandy earth. Rayah looked up at them, his silver-blue eyes cold and hard, despite the wry smile on his handsome face. Despite themselves, the guards shivered slightly under his gaze.

"I am he," he replied softly, his smile widening at the acute fear spreading onto the guards' faces, especially the one that had attacked him; he had taken a few steps back from the teen, shifting uncomfortably. "I am Rayah, and you can tell that bastard of a ruler of yours that you would have to drag me through Hell and back again before I will kneel before him in counsel."

The guard lowered his sword, and awkwardly sheathed his sword.

"Rayah..." Krizt watched his student sadly; if they had stayed quiet long enough, the guards would get bored and frustrated and leave them be. But Rayah couldn't stand to see them threatened any longer, and gave in. He let out a soft sigh.

One guard, the leader, frowned deeply, and said, softly, "If you will not come willingly, then we shall force you." Rayah tensed, ready to fight them off, but then the guard did the unexpected. The leader inclined his head in Varey's direction, and two guards immediately had the boy in between them. Rayah's eyes widened with fear, and Krizt stood rooted to the spot, anger and resentment rising from within him. Varey, frozen with fear, couldn't fight back.

"Release him!" called Krizt, his voice sharp. "He has nothing to do with this." The leader turned his gaze onto the Healer.

"If you had listened to us from the start, he would not be," he replied crisply. "Now, we have no choice." Rayah pulled himself up from the ground, angry tears welling up in his eyes.

"I will go with you," he said, hissing with pain. "Just let him go."

"We cannot. We do not know if you will escape once our guards are down. No, he shall come with us to insure your obedience."

The two guards holding Varey captive left the tent, ignoring the protests coming from the Healer and his apprentice. A third guard bent down, and pulled the injured Rayah up with him, before leading him out of the tent as well, followed by the others. The leader inclined his head to Krizt in farewell, and Krizt returned it with a icy frown, and he left.

Krizt slammed his fist onto his examination table, surprising the already frightened patient to the end of his wits, a rare show of anger from the normally peaceful Healer. _Ra, please watch other them..._

Well, that's the end of this chapter. Hope you enjoyed it.


	4. The Pharaoh's Request

Hey everyone. I'm back. I know I've been away for a long time, and I won't ask for your forgiveness. Part of the reason I've been away was because I've been working on my 3 websites (feel free to check it them out if you wish: Moonlit Garden, Shadows Within The Soul, Whitelighter's Lover). Another part was because my teacher gave me projects, essays, etc. for homework—and most of them were due at the same time.

Another reason was someone really close to me and my family was brutally killed at her college, and my mom got rid of my dog. I was kind of in a slump actually, I was completely and utterly depressed for a while after that, but I know I won't get anything done being like that, so I tried working on my fics. If this chapter isn't as good or up to my usual standards, you know why.

I'd also like to mention this one flame I received on this fic. It was unsigned. Normally, I don't resort to name calling, and the person who left that flame probably won't even get to this chapter, but I just felt like writing/typing this down. I specifically put on the summery that there would be Tea-bashing in this fic, and if you don't like that then **don't read it**. But of course, she or he just felt like giving me a nasty review. I'm not going to condemn them for liking Tea—it's their own opinion, and they choose who they like and don't like—but to badmouth my story—and me, for that matter—because I don't like an anime character that they do is just ignorant, and very, very, **VERY** immature. You know nothing about me, and yet you go around condemning me for bashing Tea? I wouldn't mind if you just left it at my story, if there was something wrong in it that I had to correct that is. To say that my story is trash without even _reading_ it, I take that as a very high insult. As I said before, I explicitly put "Tea-bashing" in the summery, and that if you didn't like it then don't read it. I can't press that enough. If you absolutely _insist_ on sending me a flame, I'd appreciate it if you were honorable enough to sign the flame, instead of being a coward and hiding behind "Anonymous". I accept all reasonable flames because they help me become a better writer, but flamers that flagrantly abuse my stories without having read it and don't give out their names do _not_ help my writing improve, and certainly shows that they are incredibly narrow minded. Not everyone thinks the way you do; not everyone _likes_ the same people you do. Just _deal with it _like everyone else.

I apologize for going on and on like that, but I feel very strongly about this topic. For all those who reviewed (kindly/reasonably), arigato thanks.

Enjoy.

Chapter Four: The Pharaoh's Request

"Ahh!" The yell was closely followed by a muffled thump. Rayah turned back to find that Varey had fallen once again. He frowned slightly as a guard roughly pulled him up by the ropes tied tightly around his friend's wrist. Varey noticed his frown, and smiled reassuringly.

The captain of the guards watched as Ra slowly made his way towards the horizon; it was almost time for his death.

"We shall make camp here," he said, swinging himself off of his horse's saddle.

Rayah glared at him, turned away, grabbed Varey's rope from the guard who held him captive, and lead him a little ways away. He sat down heavily in the sand beneath the shade of a lone palm tree, pulling his surprised friend down with him.

The guards watched, anxious expressions on their faces, as their leader stared impassively but for a hint of fear that was visible in his eyes; the tree had not been there before, and certainly no tree could grow as green as the one Rayah was seated beneath in this area of the desert for there was no trace of water nearby. They turned to each other, glancing back nervously every few seconds at the teen.

"Then what the priest said was true," said one in a soft whisper that could barely be heard. "He was born under the gods' favor!"

"We have angered him," whispered another, shaking violently. "Surely he would ask the gods to punish us!"

"But it was the Pharaoh's will that we bring him," said another in an attempt to rectify what they had done. "The Great Pharaoh represents the gods; surely His Greatness' will is above the Healer's!"

"But still–"

"There ain't no 'but' about it!" cried another, the one who had abused Rayah back at the tent. His friends desperately tried to hush him, but he waved them off. "He's just a little brat, nothing to worry about. Feh! Favored by the gods...I didn't see any of that shitting 'divine intervention' back there! I coulda beaten him into a pulp and nothing woulda happened! Ha!"

"Stop gabbing, and set up camp," barked their captain, turning towards them with a frown on his face.

"Yes sir," they replied, some grumpily and others obediently.

As the guards set to setting up the tents, Rayah irritably checked Varey's wrists, ignoring his own wounds; they were rubbed raw from the tightness of the rope and the amount of tugging the guard had done. He sent another glare at the guards, who inched away from him, before turning his full attention onto the wound.

Varey winced slightly as the young Healer moved the rope to inspect his wrists, and bit his lip to keep from crying out when they were prodded. Rayah barely glanced up as he gave a disgruntled sigh. He reached into his sack and pulled out a small vial and a small dagger. With a quick flick of his wrist, the ropes fell from Varey's wrists, ignoring the guards' protests. He placed his dagger back into his sack, popped the lid of the vial with his teeth, spat it into the sand, and proceeded to pour some of the clear liquid onto the raw skin.

Varey inhaled sharply through clenched teeth, but otherwise didn't react. Rayah began to rub his wrists gently, and he relaxed slightly. He glanced up and watched his friend's face, and flushed slightly.

Rayah's mouth was set in an unhappy frown. His silver-blue eyes were narrowed in concentration and barely contained anger; despite this emotion, his hands and movements were gentle. It wasn't long before the redness disappeared and the swelling went down.

Rayah removed his hands, and Varey smiled in gratitude, holding his wrists to himself. Rayah pretended to not have noticed, and leaned wearily back onto the tree's trunk; the guards had, in their haste, forgotten to bring a steed to carry him. Despite their leader's intent on letting him ride one of the guard's horses, Varey would not have received the same treatment, so the young Healer declined, much to the relief of the other guards.

Rayah closed his eyes, and soon fell asleep. Varey sat back and was contented to watch the guards set up camp. He only roused the Healer once it was time to eat.

Rayah grumpily woke, and seated himself before the fire one of the guards had managed to bring to life, Varey right beside him. He sullenly ate his dinner, which consisted of bread and a bowl of broth. Once he finished, it set his bowl down and waited for Varey to finish, before dragging him back to the tree and away from the guards.

Varey sat down in the fast cooling sand in surprise, and blinked as he watched his friend climb the tree's trunk. Something hard fell on his head and landed with a muffled 'thump' in the sand.

"Hey!" he objected, rubbing the sore spot.

"Sorry," was Rayah's mumbled reply. This happened a few more times, and Varey finally moved over, an irritated frown on his face. His head was really sore now, and he felt a headache coming on. He rubbed his temple as Rayah jumped out of the tree, landing nimbly on his feet. He sat down and handed some of the fruit he collected over, receiving a surprised stare. "Here. That wasn't much of a dinner, and I thought you'd still be hungry, so…" He drifted off, leaving his sentence hanging in the air, and Varey smiled at him.

"Sorhk tah, Ray," he said, accepting the fruit. Rayah, still confused as to what tongue his friend spoke besides Egyptian, shrugged it off and mumbled something that sounded like "No problem". He took a bite out of his own fruit, and the rest was silence between them.

* * *

They finally reached the palace, and Rayah looked up at the building impassively, though his eyes held and annoyed glint. It looked to be carved of gold, and for all he knew it might have been. The doors towered and dwarfed all that stood before it and were flanked by many guards, each holding a spear in their right hands and a sword on their left hips. 

Rayah glanced back at the city behind them, and frowned slightly. On the surface, it looked like any normal city: people bustling about in the market, buying goods for their homes; children ran about in play, disrupting the peaceful rhythm of any unfortunate senior who stood in their way; pets meowed and barked, chasing their young masters or following faithfully at their heels; wives hung laundry to dry on lines stretching across the streets and husbands worked or laughed with friends. But Rayah saw much more than that, his eyesight being as good as it was.

The alleyways were filthy, filled with rodents that crawled quickly about, frequently quarreling over a piece of food that had been dropped and forgotten. Huddled bodies crouched or lay by buildings, some begging passersby's for some food or money while others lay eerily still. He also noted that the city had more than its fair share of thieves, the majority of them children that where only a few years younger than he himself was—orphaned, by the looks of them.

His silver-blue eyes narrowed somewhat, and his hands clenched at his side. Varey wisely chose to remain silent.

They entered into the Main Hall, and the leader of their 'escort' brought himself before Rayah, bowing slightly for politeness' sake.

"I shall go inform His Greatness of your arrival," he said, before turning away. If he noticed the glare that was aimed squarely on his back, he didn't show it. He continued to another pair of looming doors, and disappeared behind them.

Rayah crossed his arms and began to tap his foot on the waxed floor, the normally soft sound echoing within the large chamber. The other guards twitched with annoyance as each resounding 'tap' reached their ears, their frowns drawing taut and their eyes either bulging or narrowing in aggravation. Rayah noted this with sadistic pleasure, and continued his ministrations, only at a slightly quicker pace.

The captain returned—too quickly for Rayah's taste—and informed him that the Pharaoh wished to see him immediately, to which the young Healer responded to with a derisive snort. A guard made to drag Varey with them, but Rayah, having seen this, quickly grabbed his friend's wrist and pulled him through the large doors with him.

The two entered an even larger chamber. Rayah continued down towards the throne, completely ignoring the large statues that lined up on either side of him. He took in the six priests situated before the throne, and grimaced slightly; he not wanting to be there was a gross understatement.

Once he reached the throne, he didn't bother to kneel. Instead, he settled for crossing his arms and staring at the Pharaoh with a scowl. It didn't bother him that the Pharaoh was around his own age; in fact, this only infuriated him even more. Varey attempted to calm him, without much progress.

Atemu ignored the scowl he was receiving, and greeted the boy before him. "How was your trip here? Comfortable, I hope?"

"None of the sort," Rayah bit out, and Atemu's eyes widened in surprise. "Our sorry excuse of an escort not only used my friend here as collateral," at this, Rayah gestured to the pale boy beside him, "but they also handled us poorly. The only guard who was even _close_ to competent was the captain."

"I am sorry. I will correct it any way I—" started the young Pharaoh, only to be interrupted by a crisp, "What do you want?" from the aggravated teen. The priests murmured to each other disapprovingly, sending the only priestess doubtful glances, who sighed wearily. Priest Seth glared at Rayah's impudence, but didn't say anything. With a wave of his hand, Atemu silenced them.

"Just recently, Priestess Isis," he gestured to the priestess who bowed her head, receiving an impatient stare, "had received a vision from the gods. A great plague is headed for this city, and only you are able to stop it from killing thousands of innocent people." Silver-blue orbs narrowed.

"And what makes you think I will help you?" Atemu studied the boy before him with a close eye, and saw a glint in his eyes that stated he must answer correctly…or else.

"I have been told of your great dislike for me…" he replied softly. Rayah snorted in disdain.

"And yet you still summoned me?" he asked. "Knowing full well that I might say no? A great risk, if you ask me."

"Yes." Rayah quieted, his scowl lightening somewhat at the definite answer. "Please help, if not me then my people. They have done nothing, and so do not deserve to be killed off by this cursed plague!" Rayah's silver-blue gaze flickered slightly, but he remained still.

Varey glanced between the young Pharaoh's earnest expression and his friend's seemingly blank one, but he knew better. The Healer's body was taut, every muscle coiled tight and ready to spring at any given moment; his eyes, which had held unadulterated hate, now held uncertainty and guilt, as he contemplated his decision; his eyebrows were no longer narrowed, but rather furrowed above his eyes in thought.

To anyone who didn't know him, Rayah still appeared to despise the Pharaoh and have not intention of helping. This also went for the High Priests of the court.

"Pharaoh, do not waste your time pleading with this riffraff," said Seth, staring down derisively at the young boy who wasn't that much younger than himself. Rayah sent him a glare, which went purposefully unnoted.

His request was disregarded, much to the High Priest's chagrin, and Atemu voiced his plea once again, bringing those enigmatic silver-blue eyes back onto him. A moment of silence passed in the great chamber, a moment in which Seth sent the young Healer heated glares—all of which have been ignored.

"…I'll help," said Rayah quietly, albeit reluctantly. Atemu visibly relaxed, as did many of his advisors. "…If only for the sake of the people."

"I am eternally grateful," replied the Pharaoh. He summoned a servant and said, "Please show them to their rooms." Rayah followed the overly coddling servant, his scowl putting a much deserved dent in said servant's cheery demeanor. Varey bowed politely to the Pharaoh, apologized for his friend, and hurried to catch up with their departing backs, leaving a very amused Pharaoh and his bewildered advisors.

"They're completely different from each other," he commented quietly. "Like night and day…" Seth harrumphed at the remark, though he didn't deny it.

"The pale one is much more likeable," he grumbled. Atemu watched his cousin, amusement shining brilliantly in his crimson violet eyes.

"I suppose," he said. "…It appears the Palace life will become even more interesting now that they're staying here…" A small intake of breath to his left captured his attention. It was Isis, once again.

"You have no idea how 'interesting', my Pharaoh," she replied furtively, hilarity shining in her dark eyes. The look in her eyes almost made the tri-colored teen nervous. Almost.


End file.
